


Ditto!

by CrinklyTinfoil



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Psychological Horror, You Have Only Yourself to Blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25658305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrinklyTinfoil/pseuds/CrinklyTinfoil
Summary: A young trainer struggles to confront the grief of their dead Growlithe. Ditto tries to help.
Kudos: 2





	Ditto!

It was a quiet day, one of the last days of summer. The small plot of land stood mostly vacant, empty of those who would normally frequent it. It was an overgrown place, full of curling weeds and brightly colored flowers that popped up about the stones. Tombstones dotted the place, and though the plot itself did not look overly formal, the stones that were arranged about gave it an almost dignified look.

  
This graveyard did not cater to human residency. Names and species of Pokémon were listed upon the monoliths, with the well-wishers of the families and friends and partners who had opened up a grave and left the Pokémon in the ground. Among the stones I sat, a living figure in a gathering of corpses. I’d been there most days since the funeral had happened weeks and weeks ago, trekking out here whenever my parents lost sight of me to sit in this exact spot in front of the tombstone. I had become a regular here, something that was reserved for the old or for the unlucky.

  
My baseball hat was placed down by my side, light blue jacket clinging to my shoulders as I stared intently the tombstone, reading the words again and again as though it would change something. As though it would bring the Pokémon who lay beneath the ground back. I was old enough to know that this wasn’t at all feasible. I wasn’t some small child who could just sit in bed and hope that somehow Ember would rise back out of his grave. No, dead was dead and there was nothing that could be done.

  
No one wants to watch a Pokémon die, but normally its expected at the very least. Sickness, old age — those were the two big factors in Pokémon death. I bit my bottom lip so hard I tasted blood as tears threatened to crawl down the sides of my cheeks as I stared at the grave, a growing pain bubbling up inside of me.

  
At least, normally when a Pokémon dies, no one is responsible, but I knew I was. I was the asshole who didn’t listen to my parents, and Ember had followed me because of course he had. He trusted me to make good choices. We were a team.

  
The river was deep and the undercurrent strong. Ember was a Growlithe, a fire type, and therefore avoided it like the plague. I’d teased him about it before — a little water wouldn’t hurt him, I told him. A little water wouldn’t have… but a powerful undercurrent? That could kill.

  
He made the choice to swim, my parents kept repeating to me. It’s not your fault. But it was, and I knew it was, and my twelve-year-old mind assured me that it would always be my fault. I may have been young, but I wasn’t too young to understand the crushing guilt that had come with Ember’s death. And now he was dead and buried far beneath the soil. I stared at it, knowing at some point I would have to go back.

  
If I slept out in the graveyard one more time, my parents would send me to therapy. The only reason they hadn’t done it already was because of the logistics of it all. We lived way out in the middle of nowhere, and my town wasn’t large enough to have a local shrink. If they caved and decided I needed professional help, they’d have to drive me, and we all knew they didn’t have time for that.

  
I screwed up my face as I made an effort to picture Ember in my mind’s eye, happy and playful as we wandered through the local forest together. I couldn’t, though. There was only one image in my mind, and it was a horrible one. It was the face he’d made right before he’d gone under for the last time. Wide eyes, a mouthful of whimpers spewing out into the air as he’d paddled against his soaked through fur, trying to get to me back on shore. A shore where I’d been left staring frozen as I tried to convince myself to jump in after him.

  
Maybe I was still alive because I hadn’t, but maybe I could have saved him. The uncertainty was eating at me, and I stared at the tombstone in front of my, my hands clenched at my sides as grief still wracked my mind. It was then that I heard the crunching of footsteps behind me. I didn’t turn to greet the person approaching me, already suspecting their identity. This thought was made true to me the moment I heard my mothers voice.

  
“Sweetie, are you ready to come home?” She wasn’t alone, I knew my father was with her. My father, a big burly man with a thick beard was not much of a talker. He wasn’t used to me showing this sort of emotion. Grief was a stranger in our house, and I think he was under the impression when this first occurred that I would simply make peace with it. He hadn’t seen what I had thought, and that made all the difference.

  
I shook my head, not looking up from the grave.

  
“Well, it’s nearly time for dinner,” Mom continued, and I heard her shuffling in an antsy fashion behind me. I still didn’t turn. My eyes were fixed on the engraving of the name, Ember. My eyes traced the words, burning them into my mind as I tried to forget.

  
“Come on, kiddo,” my father said gruffly, and I could hear that uncertain waver in his voice. “You can’t sit here forever.”

  
My mother reached out, gently taking me by my shoulders. I rose at her light pull, mechanically stooping to pick up my hat from the ground. Flecks of grass and dirt fell from it as I placed it upon my head, looking up towards the two of them. Their faces wore those looks I was beginning to hate.

  
Worry — immeasurable amounts of concern as they stared down at me with empathetic eyes. I wanted that concern, too. I wanted that love, that support, but at the same time my mind would not allow me to accept any of it. After all, all of this was my fault.

  
Dinner was quiet as usual. I sat at the table, and I poked at my food. My empty stomach was riddled in knots, yet at the same time I didn’t want to feed it. That memory that was always on the forefront of my mind was here especially as my eyes drifted down in an unconscious motion to the edge of the table.

  
I almost expected to see him there, peering out with his large and empathetic eyes. He’d always been a greedy thing, and though my parents constantly told me not to feed him from my plate, I had never been able to resist. I felt my hand tremble slightly as I reached down towards the air that just for a split second, held my friend. His image blinked away, and I was left reaching under the table.

  
“Honey, don’t feed Ember,” my mother choked out the words, clearly more on instinct than anything else and I could hear her trying to stop them as they left her mouth. She had a coughing fit, taking a large swig of water before quickly standing up.

  
“I’ll just go get dessert,” she said, before making her way out of the room, heading for the kitchen.  
I watched her go from the corner of my eye, and I could see tears glinting in her eyes as well. It was all so… miserable.

  
My father surprised me then. He cleared his throat, catching my attention. I looked up to him, and though he still wore a discomforted look, he’d forced a friendly smile on his face.

  
“Hey buddy, your mom and I… we were thinking that maybe we could take a trip into Goldenrod City. Your mom knows someone who’s got a litter of young Growlithes, and we thought maybe you’d like to go meet one.”

  
“NO!” I didn’t mean to be so loud, but the thought of having another Pokémon under my care, it horrified me. Not just because it would mean replacing Ember, but also because deep down I was sure that I’d manage to get it killed. My father seemed taken aback by my response, and I bit back the scream that was building up in the back of my throat.

  
“Can I go to my room?” I asked, feeling a bit breathless.

  
“But… you haven’t had dessert,” my father said, sounding adrift at sea. My answer had clearly thrown him for a loop, and I saw my mother sticking her head back into the conversation, hasty hands wiping away tears that had begun to stream from her eyes.

  
“I don’t want dessert,” I lied, hastily standing up as I retreated. “I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  
I’d regret my actions later, curled up starving and without dessert in bed as I was forced to relive the same memory over and over again. A whimper, a splash of paws, a gasp of breath and then a long, unending silence as I ran alongside the river, waiting for him to surface again. I closed my eyes to fight back tears as I lay in bed, before I decided it was pointless. I got up, moving towards my bedroom door. I was thirsty and I needed a glass of water.

  
I slid silently out, my feet padding against the carpet. I paused outside of my parents room when I heard voices, and I leaned my ear against the door.

  
“It’s only been a couple of weeks, healing takes time,” my father said, though his voice held that undercurrent of uncertainty. It was clear he wasn’t sure if what he was saying was true, and it was obvious my mother was having none of it. “I know about a couple of good therapists in Goldenrod City — Katie’s little girl lost her cousin last year and there were a couple that she recommended for a situation like this.”

  
“That was a human though, would it be the same for a Pokémon?” My mother, who’d been pacing came to a stop. My father question was a genuine one.

  
“They grew up together…” my mother’s voice trailed off, and I heard her sit down on the bed beside my father.

  
“You know, I always thought, when it was time, they’d both leave together. It always felt like it was meant to be, you know?” Her voice was filling with tears, tears that were already spilling down my face. I pulled away, quickly making my way downstairs towards our kitchen. I couldn’t bear to listen to any more of it.

  
As my shaky hands filled up my glass from the water pitcher in the fridge. Quietly, I placed it back into the fridge, as I tried to drink the water. It hurt, but I did it anyways. My body was far too thirsty from all the crying that I’d been doing recently. The ache that tears always left had grown into a migraine, and I felt like I might vomit as I leaned against the door.

  
On late nights like these, Ember would have woken up with me. He’d have wandered sleepily down the stairs, bumping into things as he went. I’d always joked with him that when he became an Arcanine he was going to be so destructive. He was such an uncoordinated Growlithe that I’d had a laugh at just how ridiculous he’d be once he got bigger.

  
Of course, I wouldn’t be seeing that now, would I?

  
I choked and slumped to the ground. It took me a good few seconds to realize that I was no longer in control, and that whether I liked it or not, I was about to bawl. I hastily abandoned the water glass on the floor, running towards the door. I went through it as quietly as I possibly good, moving like someone who was about to upchuck their entire lunch. I stumbled through the grass, moving furiously till I was sure that I was out of hearing range of the house. Our property’s border lined a small pond where Ember and I used to play about. I came right up to the edge before I stopped, placing my hands over my face to let out a howl of animalistic pain. I hurt so bad that I was overwhelmed. I pressed my hands so hard they hurt as sweat poured from my face and I muffled my screams, again and again against my hands.

  
Finally, I lifted up my head, snot dripping from my hands as I tried to stare through blurry eyes. The moon was bright, but there was simply no way I would be able to see anything in my current state. I wiped my arm across my face, again, and again, and again trying hard to clear the liquid from my eyes.

  
I heard something splash in the pound, and I jolted out of my misery for just a second. I saw the fins of what could have only been a Goldeen flip out across the water. The spray it left behind was graceful, and I stared at it in puzzlement. There were no Goldeen in this pond. I knew this for a fact because I’d swum in it so often. I stared at the ripples left behind by the fish, before I saw its horn rise above the water. It was swimming towards me, slowly and with motions that struck my brain as… well, odd. I watched it approach, wondering if I should run.

  
That was just silly, though — it was a Goldeen, a water Pokémon, a fish! It couldn’t leave the water, even if it wanted to. As I thought this, I was startled from this thought as it launched itself from the water, landing on its side in front of me. I gave a gasp and staggered back, and then I had to cover my mouth as a shriek nearly left my lips. Where the Goldeen’s large, gleaming blue eyes should have been there was a tiny dot. It was round like a pinhole and the mouth that curved up in a smile on its face was nothing but a line.

  
“What…?” I was too distressed to do much, looked in the strange Goldeen’s gaze.

  
“Ditto!”

  
I blinked as my foggy mind put together that this wasn’t the cry of a Goldeen. I watched as the body gave a horrifying ripple, and slowly it melted down into a small pile of swaying purple goo. At least that explained that. I stared at the creature in disbelief as it watched me with those pin dot eyes. They were still a bit creepy, but at least the eyes fit the Pokémon they now were attached to.

  
“Ditto!” it cried again as it began to slide towards me. I shoved myself backwards, still creeped out. Sure, it was doubtlessly harmless, but something about it unsettled me to my very core.

  
“Go away…” I demanded in a feeble voice. It did not stop swaying or smiling, and it also did not listen to me. Instead it came closer, still swaying with that smile affixed to its face. “Ditto!” it cried again. When Ember had been alive, I’d known what he was trying to say when he’d spoke to me. Maybe never in detail, but I’d always gotten the gist.

  
This Pokémon, though… I had no idea what it wanted from me. Still, it seemed friendly enough. I had the sense that it didn’t want to hurt me.

  
Slowly, with trembling hands I reached out. It happily crawled over the ground to me, oozing into my hands with a squelch. The texture was pleasant, like some sort of stress goop, and I had the urge to work it through my fingers. I decided against this as I stood up, staring at the thing in confusion.

  
“Are you hungry?” I asked it, giving a large sniff, snot still dribbling out of my nose.

  
“Ditto!” I didn’t know what it meant, but I decided that maybe it was. I wasn’t in a good enough mental state to simply put it back down on the ground, anyway. If this little purple goo had also died because of me… well, I may have been twelve, but my mind had begun to wander into some dark territories.

  
I walked towards the house with the small thing, still unsure of what I was going to do with it. Carefully, I let myself in before walking into the kitchen and placing it onto the floor. I grabbed some fruit my mother had diced from the fridge and put it in a bowl, sliding it over to Ditto. It grabbed a piece and ate it in a cheerful fashion.

  
I almost laughed at that, but the affection I felt as quickly overshadowed by the painful yank inside of me as I pressed a hand to my chest. I had to go back to bed. I retrieved my glass of water and dumped it down the sink, unable to bring myself to drink it as I watched Ditto continue to eat the bowl of fruit. At the last slice it paused, before picking it up and offering it out to me. I stared at it in confusion, before slowly shaking my head.

  
“No thank you.” It tilted its ever-smiling face at me, still offering it out. I carefully reached down and picked it up. “If you’re full, I’d better put you back outside.”

  
“Ditto!” I shushed it, looking about the house in a worried fashion. My parents had always told me not to bring wild Pokémon into the house. They hadn’t even really wanted Ember in the house, but had realized it was a losing battle early on. “You’ll be fine. You’ve eaten and it’s a nice night out. Now go outside.”

  
I carried it to the door and carefully placed it on my step. “Ditto!” it said again, and I just shook my head in confusion.

  
“I don’t understand you.” I said as I made my way back, quickly shutting the door behind me.

  
My nightmares were as they always were, images and sounds from that brief twenty-minute clip of my life. That’s all my dreams had been since that day, but I hadn’t mentioned it. I wasn’t particularly keen on going to a therapist, and I knew the moment I brought it up there’d be no avoiding it. I’d awoken that day in the same haze I had for the past few weeks, simply lying there as I waited for my mother to come and drag me downstairs.

  
It didn’t take her long. She always gave me till nine, but then she’d come and get me. I heard her footsteps and her knock, and responded to neither. This was our ritual, and she knew my silence was an invitation to come in and retrieve me.

  
“Good morning, sunshine,” she said as she stepped through my door, walking up to my bed. Her voice held hesitancy in it, and I looked at her robotically. She hated it when I did this. Just laid there and didn’t get out of bed. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, its just that I didn’t have the energy for it anymore. I didn’t have the energy for most things anymore.

  
I dressed, washed and made my way down to breakfast. At the table there was silence, as there normally was. Then, my mother cleared her throat.

  
“So, are you ready to do some back to school shopping, sweetie?” I looked towards her blankly. School? Was summer really over already?

  
“I don’t want to.” I said honestly as my hand drifted under the table with a bit of pancake. I felt it slide from my grasp as something took it and returned my hand back to the table as my mother spoke.  
“I know you don’t want to, but I don’t want to go without you. I would hate for you not to have some fun school supplies.”

  
“I don’t care about school supplies.” I said as I ripped off another piece of pancake and offered it out under the table.

  
“Listen to your mother,” my father said in a warning tone, his eyes watching my hand with an odd expression on his face.

  
“You know you’ll be upset if you don’t go and pick out what you want, and then you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.” I cut the third strip of pancake, and offered it out under the table, feeling it leave my grasp. It was as this happened that my heart froze in my chest and I felt as though I’d been dunked in ice water. My hand trembled as I slowly withdrew it, looking at it in disbelief.

  
My breathing started to become a bit panicked as my body went rigid.

  
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” my mom asked, her eyes widening as she stared at my shaking form. I just shook my head, staring at our tablecloth. I couldn’t see any feet under the table, but I knew without a doubt that something had been taking my pancake. I gulped in a breath of air before I said in a small, scared voice.

  
“Hello?”

  
“Ditto!”

  
I shrieked and fell back, at the voice. My eyes watched as the small purple form emerged from under the table, bits of pancake stuck to its face as it stared at me with those dark beady eyes. My parents, who had jumped to their feet in alarm relaxed at the sight of it of the Pokémon, though confusion still plagued them as I scrambled back from the purple goo.

  
“What _is_ that?” asked my father, stepping beside my mother as he quickly made his way around the table, looking down at the gooey creature.

  
“I think it’s called a Ditto,” my mother smiled slightly, as though the wriggling creature was in any way cute or charming. Maybe it was, but my mind was still reeling from the shock, the violation of something that had belonged just to me an Ember being invaded by this… this thing.

  
Its smile was beginning to freak me out as well as it stared at me, bobbing up and down and up and down in place. My mom bent down, offering out a hand to it and it quickly turned to her, waving its small purple arms.

  
“Ditto!” She let out a laugh and petted its head.

  
“Where did you come from?” she asked sweetly. My father seemed oddly charmed by the creature as well, leaving me to stumble to my feet. I almost told them about the previous night, but the words got caught coming up my throat. I didn’t want to get in trouble. After Ember had died, I wasn’t supposed to go wandering near the woods alone.

  
My mother glanced to me, a hopeful smile on her face. “It really seems to like you.” I stared at her in disbelief, already knowing before she even spoke where she was trying to take this.

  
“Well, I don’t like it,” I said as I stood up, my heart still beating out of my chest. My mother sighed and scooped up the Ditto, letting it bounce like jelly in her palms. “Well, I’m going to let it stay in the house for awhile. I think the poor thing’s hungry.”

  
As she walked towards the kitchen, the Ditto in her hand, I watched its small head turn to follow me.  
“Ditto!” It called out after me, and I withdrew, my limbs shaking.

  
“I’m going to go for a walk,.” I muttered, standing up and brushing myself off. My father was quick to intervene with my plans though, stepping forward and gesturing towards the living room that held are small TV.

  
“How about you and I spend some time together?” he suggested, and I knew that he knew where I was planning on going. I’d have argued, but I was still too shaken up from my impromptu encounter.

  
We watched the Battle Channel, colorful flashes of light splashing out across the screen as Pokémon duked it out in a ring. My father had no doubt turned it on to cheer me up, and I supposed it did appeal to me somewhat. But now, it wasn’t just the memories of Ember that were distracting me from it. Now and again, a small cry from the kitchen would catch my attention.

  
“Ditto!”

  
“Ditto!”

  
“Ditto!”

  
I didn’t really know how to feel. I’d never meet a Ditto before, and this one in particular seemed just a bit too obsessed with me. It was probably trying to be friendly, but everything it was doing was just unnerving.

  
My father spoke while the TV played, but it was all meaningless noise. My thoughts were torn in two, and neither side spared a single microsecond for him. Instead, he seemed all too eager to lose himself in flashing lights of the TV, and for the moment I did the same. After an hour, I excused myself to my room.

  
I made my way down the hall of our one-story house, slipping into my room and pulling out a rickety binder from underneath my bed. The cover was blue and faded, the back half of it sagging slightly as I pulled it from where I’d put it. I opened it up, and began to carefully flick through the pages, pages which I myself had filled.

  
Two weeks after Embers death, I’d gone on a quest to collect every bit of photographic evidence that he had existed. His memory seemed to be fading from the house so quick. I had screamed and yelled when they’d taken away the bed he’d never slept in and I’d accused my parents of many things when they’d taken away his bowls from the kitchen.

  
They hadn’t listened to me, and I suspected that they’d done it in an effort to stop me from simply sitting and staring.

  
Joke was on them — I still had the tombstone and the memories to haunt me. Along with that, I’d raided the boxes of photos my mother kept in our small attic. It had been hard for me to get up inside the small crawl space, and I had gotten covered in dust, but that hadn’t stopped me from gathering up every last picture of Ember and I, and hastily pasting them into my own little album which now lived under my bed.

  
It was hard, looking through my makeshift picture book but I still did it. It was the only way I could see Ember’s face without watching him drown again, and I had to hold onto that. I sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through picture after picture.

  
I had not, when putting together this book in my grief, put them in order. There was a picture of me wrapped in a yellow blanket as a toddler, Ember hiding beneath the folds with me as he wagged his tail. Here was a picture of me feeding Goldeen at one of the local rivers, Ember peering over into the water, his eyes bright with interest.

  
I felt my eyes tearing up, but I was used to it now and ignored them. After weeks upon weeks of crying, one gets used to tears. I did my best not to let them splatter onto the book in front of me, lying down on my stomach and propping it up so my precious memories weren’t damaged. It got harder to look at them with every page, and as I flipped, I watched myself and Ember travel through all stages of life together. My hands shook slightly as I allowed my head to flop to the floor.

  
“Ditto!”

  
I took in a gasp of air as my head swiveled. There was that goddamned Ditto again. It bobbed on the floor beside me, eyes fastened on my book. Its bobbing slowly slowed, and it felt as though it was taking in the pictures.

  
“Ditto?”

  
For the first time, I distinguished a difference in the creature’s words. This one had been a question, and though I couldn’t fully be sure, I suspected I knew what it was asking.

  
“That’s Ember.” I pointed a finger towards the frozen picture of Ember knocking down a snowman I’d so meticulously built. He had always been clumsy.

  
“Ditto?”

  
Another question, though I figured I probably got the gist of this one.

  
“He’s dead.” I said simply, looking over at the creature sidelong. “He’s dead and gone and it’s my fault. Look, can you just leave me alone? I don’t know what you want.”

  
“Ditto!”

  
I shook my head as I wiped away the residual tears from my eyes.

  
“Nope, sorry, can’t understand you,” I said firmly as I sat up, shutting the book with a snap. “And why are you still in my house anyways? Why hasn’t mom put you back outside yet?”

  
“Ditto!”

  
It may have not had an answer for me, but my parents sure did. “It’s cute.” My mother insisted as I held the bobbing Ditto out in front of me.

  
“And I think it really does want to spend time with you.” I eyed the Ditto. I don’t know what it was, but something about the small creature still made me nervous. Not so much while it was in this form, but the image of the Goldeen still stuck in my head. It had just looked so wrong.

  
“I don’t want it.” I protested in a feeble voice, knowing that wasn’t going to cut it with my parents. To them, this no doubt looked sweet beyond belief. Their grieving child had had a Ditto take a fascination to them, and was now doing its very best to offer what I was sure they saw as comfort. I was frustrated, offering out the Ditto to my mother.

  
“Could you at least take it?” I said, not wanting to hold the bobbing thing anymore. My mom sighed as she reached out and plucked Ditto from my hands.

  
“Ditto!”

  
I felt a well of frustration bubbling inside of me and I snapped angrily.

  
“I don’t want you as my Pokémon! You’re just a stupid pile of goop! Who would want that as their Pokémon?” I didn’t mean it, not at all. Ditto was actually kind of neat, but I was feeling so frayed. Ember’s death had already driven me to the end of my rope, and now this Ditto wouldn’t leave me alone. It was driving me over an edge, and I couldn’t stand it anymore, even though this wasn’t about the Ditto at all.

  
“Sweetie!” My mother’s voice held shock in it as she sheltered the Ditto from me, staring at me with a hint of anger in her eyes.

  
“I just want to be left alone! I want to go sit with Ember and I want to be alone. I want to go be with Ember. I want Ember to come back!” My voice had raised into a scream, and I was seeing red as the dam inside of me that had been holding back the frantic pain finally burst. “I hate all of you and just want Ember!”

  
They didn’t have to tell me to go to my room, they couldn’t stop me from going to my room. I turned, and I fled them, hearing their voices following me down the hall. I knew, as I ran that I’d just earned myself a trip to Goldenrod City. Now I would have to see a therapist, all because I couldn’t just keep all of this to myself.

  
Yet, somehow, this miserable realization was second to another thought that nagged at the edge of my thoughts. I’d only saw it out of the corner of my eyes, blurred through tears as I’d run from the scene, but I still was sure of what I’d seen. Ditto hadn’t been smiling anymore. That simple line of theirs had dropped down into a frown.

  
I felt… bad. I hadn’t meant anything I’d said to them. It was simply impossible though for me to walk back out and apologize now though. I’d already stormed off, and I couldn’t undo storming off.

  
I stayed in my room all day, and didn’t even come out for dinner. My mother had left a plate of food outside my door that I had nibbled on, before leaving the rest of it untouched. I felt like I had to vomit, yet I knew I hadn’t eaten anything. I simply sat on my bed. My mind felt so, fragile. It felt like it was going to collapse at the slightest touch. I was antsy and tired and I knew that sleep would be hard to find.

  
When evening finally rolled around, I tucked myself in long before it was my bedtime. I had been laying in my bed for hours when my mother had poked her head in to check on me. I did not react, even as she walked over to my bed. She rested a cool hand on my shoulder, and I heard her give a sniffle. I felt a stab of guilt, even through my own misery. I didn’t want this, didn’t want to make everyone so unhappy. I was just so got wrenchingly miserable though.

  
“I’m sorry Ember is dead,” she said sadly, and I heard real pain in her voice.

  
“It was my fault he drowned.”

  
She looked towards me and our eyes meet. “Oh honey, no, that’s not true…” she began but I cut her off.

  
“I was the one who dared him to go in the river.” My throat was raspy, and it felt like I was gargling nails as I spoke.

  
“I was the one.” I was bolt upright in bed now, staring her down with rage in my eyes. Not rage at her, but rage at myself. Rage at what I’d caused, fury at what I’d done.

  
My mother took in a steadying breath, before lacing her hands nervously and placing them on her lap. “This weekend we’re going to Goldenrod City. We’re going to do a little back-to-school shopping, and you’re going to meet up with someone who can… talk you through what is happening.”

  
“You’re sending me to a therapist.” I said, daring her to argue with my stare.

  
“Yes.” My mother said, remorse in her voice. “I don’t know how to help you, and I want you to be happy again.” I bit my lip and turned my head away, resting it back on my pillow.

  
“I want you to be happy, and they will help you be happy.” There was a note of assurance in her voice as she said this. “I want this to end, for all of us.”

  
I bit down on my hand, feeling my teeth dig into my skin as I refused to answer. She stood up, her body trembling slightly as she left the room. I watched her click off the light, and for a second I considered asking her to leave it one. Before I could though, she was long gone and out of the room. After that, it was a long time before I managed to fall asleep.

  
I was back at the river again, as I had been every night. I heard the whimpers, and I turned to the current, my heart twisting as I watched Ember’s head bob up and down in the rapid current. I ran, my feet pounding against the land as I yelled out to them.

  
“SWIM, EMBER! SWIM!” I screamed at the top of my voice, knowing full well how this ended. Ember tried his best, large paws splashing at the surface of the water. Sweat and tears rivered down my face as my heartbeat at a frantic tempo.

  
I was going to save him this time, I just had to run a little faster. I knew we were approaching it though. I turned towards the river, and I saw it. Ember’s face was turned towards me, eyes bulging with unbridled fear. He looked towards me, and I could see the last of the hope disappear from his face as he sunk beneath the water.

  
“EMBER!” I screamed, coming to a stop on the bank as I stared at where he’d gone down. I had to go after him. I had to dive into the water, to be the hero I knew I could be. But I stood on the bank, unable to bring myself to jump into that churning death.

  
“EMBER!” My breath left me and I felt my body jerk upwards.

  
I was covered in sweat, my limbs trembling as I sat in bed. My breath came in frantic gulps as I sat there, sweat pouring down my body. I couldn’t keep dreaming this — I just couldn’t. I was going mad, I was going losing my mind. I was a kid, I knew this, but I felt that this had to be what walking the edge of madness felt like. In an ironic way, just like Ember I was drowning. I was drowning and I didn’t have the strength to fight it.

  
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something odd. There was a crack of light spilling in from my door, illuminating a streak into my dark room. There was a shape, large and bulky on the floor. I felt my breath catch and my heart started to pound.

  
Something was in my room.

  
I turned my head inch by inch until my eyes caught the figure fully. My breath left me when it did, and my mouth opened.

  
I knew that form. I knew it the same way I knew what my mother’s face looked like, or what my father’s laugh sounded like. I knew that form so well that it had been seared into every dream I’d had ever since it had vanished from my life.

  
“Ember?” I whispered, knowing that this was impossible. It lifted its head, the shape clearly that of a Growlithe. I stared at it, my heart fluttering in my chest as a million impossibilities began to work their way through my head.

  
What if the body we’d found, drowned and waterlogged at the bottom of the river hadn’t been Ember’s? What if he’d just washed downstream, and he’d somehow found his way back? What if that was a ghost? What if he’d risen from the grave? Even as these possibilities churned in the back of my mind, I found that I feared the answer.

  
If this was Ember, what if he was mad at me? What if he wouldn’t forgive me? After all… it was my fault.  
Ember, for now I was sure it was him, rose to his feet. I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, the shadows of my room covering his face, but I knew he was staring right at me.

  
“Ember, I’m so sorry…” I whispered, pulling the blanket from me as I slid from my bed, my eyes wide. I knew I should be wary, but the need to be near my lifelong companion was overpowering everything in my head. Even the small voice in the back of my mind that was screaming at me that there was something very, very wrong with this situation.

  
I staggered forward, and Ember waited there for me. I thought he would vanish, but as my hands found his fluffy fur, I buried myself into it and hugged him tightly. He was warm, and he felt very alive.

“Ember…” I squeezed him tighter, my whole body shaking as I felt him lower his head and press it against my back. He was quiet the whole time, and though I knew this was odd, my mind dismissed it. It was so desperate to have my Growlithe back that nothing else mattered in that moment.

  
I clutched him tighter, and tighter my hands reaching up to rub his head, and then his snout. I paused as my fingers accidently made contact with his mouth. It felt odd. Long and thin, stretching up Ember’s face in a way I could not fully describe. I rubbed at it as my mind finally caught on to how impossible this scenario was.

  
I had buried this Pokémon, I had buried him and somehow he was sitting right next to me. That was impossible. I knew that and as this thought crossed my mind I began to pull away, staring at the figure in the dark. Ember hadn’t made a sound since I’d started hugging him, and I felt a sickness beginning to spread through my body as I staggered to my feet and took a step back. Ember rose as well and he took a step forward.

  
His movement was graceful. Too graceful. Ember had always been so clumsy. Always slipping and sliding around, but now he moved carefully through the dark towards me, silent and intent on once more reaching me.

  
“No…” I whispered as I took another step back, only to have it matched by the creature in front of me. “You have to be Ember, who else could you be?” I stared at the shape, daring it to answer me. Then, a horrible, awful though occurred to me.

  
The light of the room illuminated enough of Ember for me to know he was indeed a Growlithe. His fur had always been a tad bit lighter than the average Growlithe, and there was a white spot that broke up his coat on his left side. All of this was illuminated by the light… however, there was one thing that was kept completely covered by the dark. I reached over to the desk light by my bed, my hand hovering over it.

  
I flicked it on in one swift motion, and for a second, all was quiet. He was so perfect in almost every way. His coat had that pretty hue, his nose that prefect button shape. His ruffs and tufts were all in order, all looking just as perfect as they did in the open picture book that was sprawled out across my floor.

  
Everything was so perfect… except when I stared into that face. That large simple smile sprawled up his muzzle and his beady little eyes stared into my soul, like two dabs of black paint on a red canvas. He opened his mouth.

  
“Ditto!”

  
I screamed as I felt my fractured mind shatter.


End file.
